The League Of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Growl
by XPeculiarityX
Summary: Everybody knows that Dorian Gray is dead; and Mina Harker knows it best of all. After all, she was the cause of his timely demise. But what if he was able to come back? Would Mina be forced to bring him back to life? Would she do so willingly? Please R R!
1. The Portrait of Dorian Gray

Hi everybody, I have been somewhat dormant for the past six months, but I'm back with this story, The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen: Growl.

* * *

Mina Harker awoke. The darkness around was her haven. Usually. But tonight she wanted the sun to alight in the sky and the twilight to end. To her left lay a young man, breathing softly. Her eyes wandered to the canvas propped carelessly against the east wall. She slid her legs out round and drew a loose blanket about her, shivering slightly as the cold air hit her skin. The portrait, which was facing away from her, was wrapped in brown paper and concealed the smirking face of Dorian Gray. She had never, in two years, felt able to dispose of the painting. Running one finger over every touchable surface on the right side of the room, Mina reached the pristine canvas and ran her hand gently over the creased brown paper. She could almost hear his mocking voice as she peeled the packaging away from the painting that killed Dorian Gray.


	2. The Last Living Beneficiary

Thanks to RedJegger, my first reviewer! I have severe writer's block at the present time, so apologies for the slow updates. And, also if this chapter sucks, to tell me (kindly) I will probably rewrite it soonish.

* * *

Tom Sawyer awoke to the curtains flung aside and the sunlight streaming into the room. He sat up, blinded by the sudden brightness, and staggered out of bed. Mina, he noticed, was already out. In her place was her nightdress, neatly folded and laid flat on her pillow.

He dressed quickly, and took his colts from their cabinet- they might be needed today. Lastly, he took a folded letter from the locked drawer in the writing cabinet and slipped it into his coat's inside pocket. Sliding the key back onto the top shelf of the hallway bookcase, Sawyer left the house and started on his way.

It was a relatively short walk, and he took it at a steady pace, only speeding up when he entered the dark alleyway that passed by the door of Dorian Gray's abandoned house. At last he was on the short jetty that jutted obstinately from he sidewalk, standing at the edge, staring into the murky water. He pulled the letter from his pocket, unfolded it, and reread it once more.

'Dear Mr Sawyer,' it read. ' I am writing to inform you of the death of a Miss Katherine Carvosso. You are recorded as the last living beneficiary of her will.' It went on to describe, in detail, her assets and the circumstances of her death. 'Please will you assent to a meeting with her lawyer, a Mr J Parks, to arrange the settling of her remaining assets.'

He sighed and replaced the letter in his pocket. He had no further time to dwell, however, as a figure was making their way out of the alleyway towards him, their hat pulled low over their eyes, and coat collar raised to almost meet the brim.

"Mr....." He stopped. The person in front of him was not Katherine's lawyer.

The person stopped a few feet away from Sawyer, and removed their hat.

"Hello."


	3. The Battle Has Chosen

Thanks, much, to my first two reviewers, this chapter is dedicated to you guys =)

* * *

London Docks, July 1899

Tom Sawyer adjusted his grip on the Winchester rifle in his hands. He only had a few minutes left. In less than two minutes, the Fantom's men would round the corner and silently enter the house, across from which, Sawyer and his companion were stationed. He longed to jump out and open all hell upon them, but dismissed this thought as a hand gripped his wrist.

"Don't," said Katherine, crouching lower. "I know you want to just get out there, but wait until you've got the other people to back you up."

Sawyer turned to look at the young woman crouched beside him. Her name was Katherine Carvosso. He smiled; she understood him well. She had her own Winchester propped against one shoulder and was turning a pistol over agitatedly in her hands as she waited. She wanted to help, Sawyer knew, but he couldn't let her.

"You understand, don't you," he said, whispering, "why I can't let you follow me into this,"

"Yeah, I get it, I get it," she answered, sounding irritated. "You don't want to drag me straight into the middle of what could potentially turn into a world war."

Sawyer frowned. She was annoyed by his protectiveness, but he couldn't help it. He would never forgive himself if he walked out of that house alive and she didn't. He grimaced. Sawyer doubted even God knew how long he would be away from her for. Perhaps forever...

All at once he was jolted into action with a gasping intake of breath as Katherine elbowed him sharply in the ribs.

"Time's a wasting, " she whispered, jerking a thumb over her shoulder. "Look."

The Fantom's men were traipsing across the square with automatic rifles in their hands and metal helmets covering their heads. Sawyer steeled himself and cocked his Winchester. Now or never.

It took just one bullet.

The Fantom's men jumped as one of them stumbled and fell face-first on the cold stone. They didn't break their march, however, but walked faster, their dark cloaks rippling behind them. They disappeared behind the house, and Sawyer darted forward to retrieve the dead man's effects. Once he had relieved the man of his helmet, cloak and automatic rifle, he dashed back to Katherine.

"Don't need this," he said, turning the rifle over in his hands.

"I'll have it," Katherine replied quickly, tugging it out of his grip.

"Hey," said Sawyer "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be carrying one of them in public, especially as you've already got a Winchester and a Colt."

"So take the Winchester," she said, thrusting it at him "take the Colt," she deposited the pistol in his empty holster. "What use do I have for guns, anyway?"

Her patience with Sawyer's protectiveness had worn out. She tossed the automatic rifle over her shoulder and was doused in water as it hit the water with an almighty splash.

"What use do I have for any of this, any more?"

Shivering, she detached her holster and dropped it at Sawyer's feet, and shook her now sopping wet hair out of her eyes. "Maybe you might have a use for it."

"Kath, don't do this,"

"Do what? Do what you've wanted to happen for two years? You finally being able to disappear, searching for adventure, positively ardent for the glory that eludes you?"

Her usually bright green eyes were dull and swimming with tears.

"Oh, Kath, don't think of this that way, please," he begged, taking her hand. "I don't want to be the one the battles always choose, you know I don't."

"No," she said, pulling her hand from him and turning half away, before Sawyer caught her arm.

"Kath."

"This is one battle you've well and truly chosen yourself." She started walking back up the alleyway. "Write me a letter when you've avenged Huck's death."

She turned a corner and disappeared. Blinking away tears, Sawyer turned back to the doorway, shouldered his Winchester and entered.


	4. The Old Female Friend

London Docks, August 1901

Sawyer stood, speechless.

"You're alive." he muttered.

"I'm alive." she said. She was standing directly in front of him. Katherine Carvosso. She dropped her hat onto the jetty, reached up and started working the black ribbon out of her hair.

He took a moment to take in her appearance. She was wearing a heavy black overcoat, her skirts, visible underneath, were crimson. She had not changed much in two years; her hair was longer, he supposed, but she was essentially exactly as beautiful as he had left her, all those months ago. But looking harder, as she pulled the long, velvet ribbon from her mahogany curls and her hair fell to her shoulders, Sawyer noticed a long scar running from just above her left eye, down her nose, to her cheek.

He reached out and gently traced the scar with his fingertip. "How did you get that?" he asked softly, tilting his head.

"Nothing exciting," she answered, "I had a run in with an old friend of sorts."

Sawyer frowned, and tried to probe further, but she waved him off.

"Look, I'm sorry about the solicitor's letter," she ventured diffidently, looking vaguely guilty. "I just- well, I couldn't put anything down in words."

She shivered, the clouds overhead had obscured the sun and the air had grown suddenly cold.

"Come on," said Sawyer, leading her off the jetty. "you can come home with me for a while." He had no idea what he was doing. He shared his house with Mina, Rodney and Henry- how was he going to explain Katherine to them?

But he ignored this fact as the clouds split and it started raining; large, heavy drops, they were drenched to the skin in seconds, and with no refuge from the until Sawyer's house, there was no choice.

He took her by the hand and led her at a run in the direction of the League's household. They were yelling to each other while they pressed on through London's streets.

"WHY NOW?" asked Sawyer, yelling over his shoulder, barely looking where he was going. "WHY NOT BEFORE? WHY DID YOU COME BACK?"

"I LOVED YOU, TOM, I SWEAR I DID. I HAVE MY REASONS. WATCH OUT!!!!" she bellowed, as Sawyer nearly crashed into a pair of horses drawing a stagecoach. The horses bucked and reared, dousing them in yet more water.

Mina Harker was jerked from her seat as the stagecoach she was travelling in stopped suddenly and she was thrown forwards. Steadying herself, she stared out of the small window to see a pair of young people run off into the rain, hand in hand. Her lip curled in contempt.

"BESIDES, AREN'T YOU GLAD THAT I'M NOT DEAD?" yelled Katherine, as they turned a corner into yet another alleyway.

Sawyer stayed quiet.

They were running solidly for a further five minutes, splashing through deepening puddles. All at once, the rain got harder, the sky grew darker, there was a clap of thunder and a flash of lightning, and Katherine slipped and fell.

"KATH!" yelled Sawyer, skidding to a halt, ankle deep in a puddle. She was almost out cold, spread-eagled on her back with her hair plastered to her face. Sawyer brushed the limp curls off her face and tried to rouse her. "Kath, KATH!" She didn't stir; she had passed out.

With a muttered string of profanities, he slid his arms under her, and picked her up with little effort; she had lost weight in their two years apart. With one arm around her waist and his other under her knees, he proceeded back to his home at a stilted run.

It took a further ten minutes, but once he was firmly ensconced in the warmth and dryness of his hallway, Sawyer breathed a sigh of relief and carried Katherine up the two flights of stairs to the bedroom that he and Mina usually shared. He dared not lay her in Skinner's room, for he could hear Rodney padding around downstairs, saying inappropriate things to one of the maids. He stayed, too, away from Jekyll's room; lest Hyde broke out into the open.

Gingerly removing Katherine's sodden overcoat, Sawyer noticed something that made him shudder. Her chest, where visible above her dress, was marred with a mess of scars and half-healed cuts. Averting his eyes, he laid her on the bed and covered her with a blanket; heartened to see that she was breathing steadily.

He entered the bathroom, leant over the sink and gripped the edge until his knuckles turned white; today was turning out worse than expected. He stared at his dripping form in the mirror for a few seconds, before changing his clothes and half-closing his bedroom door as he exited into the hallway.

"Skinner!" he yelled down the stairs."Stop chatting up the maids!"

Rodney Skinner's leather coat appeared at the first landing, and Sawyer just had to assume that the invisible man was listening to him.

"Alright, alright," he said, and Sawyer knew that he was grinning. Sawyer watched the coat ascend the stairs and threw a small pot of white greasepaint from the sideboard at the coat.

"Paint on, please." The young American was bored of Skinner wandering around, completely invisible; who was to say that the gentleman thief would not stoop to looking into people's bedrooms?

As Skinner started smearing the stark white greasepaint on, his head turned slightly towards Sawyer's bedroom. He saw a look of piqued interest on what little of Skinner's face that was visible, and Sawyer leapt in front of the door, but the damage was already done.

"Who's that, then?" asked Skinner, his expression alight with sudden curiosity as he fixed his pince-nez to his nose.

"An old friend," said Sawyer, closing the door with a snap.

"An old, _female_ friend?" said the invisible man, looking smug.

"As it happens." said Sawyer, feeling distinctly uncomfortable, shifting from foot to foot with a twisted look of shame on his face.

Just as Skinner opened his mouth to say something clever, a muffled squeak came from the room behind them.

"Go away, Rodney," said Sawyer, turning away and opening the door.

"No, no, no, ickle Tommy. Seeing as your lady friend isn't our _dear_ Mina, I want to meet her."

"Ugh, fine," Sawyer said, exasperated. "But then, bugger off,"

"Tom?" Katherine sat up as the door opened and Sawyer stuck his head in.

"Hey. Are you okay now?" he was frowning, his expression concerned.

"Um... my head feels something akin to being chucked at a brick wall," Katherine answered, rubbing her head. "But aside from that, great."

Just then, Sawyer received a sharp prod in the small of his back. "Oh, for Christ's sake, Skinner,"

One of Katherine's eyebrows shot up. "What?"

Sawyer stepped aside and allowed Skinner into the room. "Katherine, this is Rodney Skinner."

"Gentleman Thief," he said, holding out a greasepaint-covered hand.

"Pleasure," said Katherine, ignoring Skinner's proffered hand and surveying the invisible man (or what she guessed was him and not thin air) with a certain amount of contempt. "This is 'Jack the Ripper' guy?"

Sawyer laughed, for the first time in two weeks. "Yes," he replied, grinning. "That's him."

"What?" asked Skinner, nonplussed. "What's the joke?"

"'Charming setting. Does Jack the Ripper live here?'" Katherine interjected, grinning. "Remember?"

"I... what? How do you know about that?" Skinner was even more confused.

"Just go, Skinner, bother Jekyll or somebody else!" said Sawyer, ushering him out of the door and closing it in his face with a resounding slam that had an air of forced finality about it. He turned back to Katherine, who had folded the blanket she had been covered by and thrown it over the desk-chair, exactly, Sawyer realised with a jolt, as Mina usually did. His eyes fell on the mass of scars, cuts and scratches on Katherine's chest once more, and he couldn't help wondering where she had got them.

Her eyes caught his gaze, and she hurriedly spread her palm over her chest to cover them, wincing as she pressed on the unhealed cuts.

"Kath," Sawyer began tentatively, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Perhaps-"

"It's nothing," she said, waving him off. "Just old battle scars."

"Old? You didn't have them before I left, and some of them are new!" Sawyer protested.

"It's nothing!" Katherine replied, dropping all pretence of politeness for her natural, Cornish accent.

"Quite obviously, they are something!" replied Sawyer acidly, losing his patience.

"FINE!" she said, throwing her arms up in a gesture of angry and reluctant defeat. "I may have had a lesser regard for my life once you left."

"Oh, Kath, you _can't _be serious," Sawyer moaned, hiding hs face behind his hands and exhaling, exasperated. "You went and tried to get yourself killed because_ I_ left?"

She looked suddenly shamefaced. "I suppose you could put it that way."

They sat in total silence for a few moments. Until Katherine broke it, with a very put-on facade of cheerfulness.

"I see your choice of dress hasn't changed," she said, surveying his white shirt and black waistcoat, his grey trousers and leather braces that never seemed to be of any purpose.

"I guess." he grinned. The moment of awkwardness had passed, for now, and neither of them wanted to stir it up again, so when Sawyer sat beside her and examined her scars and scratches, neither said much.

"When did these happen?"

"Within the last two months, the fresh ones, at least."

Sawyer just nodded in understanding.

"Tom," she whispered.

Sawyer looked up. Their faces were only inches away from each other, and the young American could hear his heart beating so loudly it was a wonder that she couldn't.

"I'm sorry."

"For what?"

And then it happened. He didn't wait to hear her answer, he didn't stop to think, he just pressed his lips hard against hers, awkwardness forgotten, his thoughts erupting into a feeling of inane ecstasy that he had not felt since he joined the League. Katherine was shocked for a moment, but responded, sitting forward slightly so they were pressed against each other. Both of Sawyer's hands cupped Katherine's cheeks as she put her hands on either side of him, leaning into him completely.

Lost completely, neither heard the front door slam, or footsteps on the stairs.

Mina opened the door.


	5. The Inhuman Versus The Vampire

Thanks, once again, to my reviewers (all two of them), this is for you. Sorry if it's relatively short- this is basically build up for the big stuff.  
Please, as always, R&R, even if it's to tell me that I've gone dreadfully wrong- If no-one reviews I have no-one to update for! And I don't want this story to be abandoned, there's a lot of good stuff coming soon.

* * *

"Oh shit."

Sawyer and Katherine broke apart, Katherine throwing herself back against the wrought-iron bedstead, looking guiltily at one another as Mina stood in the doorway, paler, if possible, than normal, her eyes glowing red threateningly.

"Did you get married in those two years?" whispered Katherine, biting her lip.

Sawyer shook his head almost imperceptibly and turned to face his angry lover.

"Mina," he said, trying to look as contrite as possible, though he would not deny, if asked out straight, that he had been thoroughly enjoying himself.

"Tom," her voice was noticeably strained as she set her glare on Katherine, who shifted uncomfortably where she sat, rocking onto her haunches, but did not hesitate to meet the older woman with just as hard a stare.

"You can explain, I suppose?" asked Mina, switching her attention back to Sawyer, her jaw tightening and her hair slowly becoming curled.

"Not _exactly_..." said Tom, searching desperately around in the most light forsaken corners of his mind for an excuse; but quick-thinking was never his strong point and he couldn't help but fail miserably. He gave up as soon as he noticed Mina's curled hair, and whispered to Katherine: "Mind out,"

Katherine leapt off the bed and Sawyer slid off the endjust as Mina flew at them; Katherine landed on the hardwood floor with a crash and rolled onto her back, her eyes flashing.

"I would appreciate it," she snapped, returning to a crouch with both palms pressed flat against the floor. "if you didn't do that."

"Are you going to stop me?" Mina hissed, baring her obvious, lengthening fangs.

"Watch me,"

Grasping the brass handle, Sawyer opened the door and threw himself from the room, staggering down the stairs, looking for Henry or Rodney; hell, he might have been glad to see Hyde, but the house was empty, save for an alarmed-looking scullery maid and the cat that randomly came and went.

Exhaling loudly, Sawyer forced himself back upstairs, pausing momentarily outside the door with his back to the wall, listening for movement, screaming, crashing, anything. All was quiet. Sawyer slid to the floor in despair. He had seen Mina in action before; he wouldn't dare pitch a human against her; much less Katherine.

Finally, after a few minutes, he entered, fully prepared for complete breakdown. But not at all prepared for the sight that met him.

Mina was slumped in a threadbare armchair, her eyes closed and a slash on her face slowly healing itself. His eyes travelled over the bedstead, the sheets of which were ripped and strewn everywhere, the floor, which bore scratches and the remains of a smashed oil lamp, to the writing desk, on which, to his complete shock, Katherine was crouched, her skirts ripped to the knee and her bodice was dropped beside her, almost torn in half.

"Oh, my, god."

Katherine looked up at his exclamation, her eyes burning amber instead of their usual green.

"Hey," she said simply, dropping of the edge to land, cat-like, at Sawyer's feet. "nice to see you again," she added. "I'll write to you sometime."

She pulled her overcoat from the back of the door and slung it around her shoulders, stuffed her ripped bodice into a inner pocket, and slipped past Sawyer, whose eyes were still resting, disbelieving, on Mina.

"Wait," he said, snapping out of his torpor and grabbing her wrist. "What? You're leaving?"

"Yes," she answered, trying to resist his grip. "I'm really not welcomed by whoever she is-" she gestured vaguely in the direction of Mina, not breaking eye-contact with Sawyer. "- besides, I don't expect you to leave all this for a messed up Cornish girl that you haven't seen for two years."

Katherine smiled a small smile, turned Sawyer's free hand palm up, and pressed a tightly folded scrap of paper into it.

"'Bye,"

She turned, slid her hand from Sawyer's now limp grip and he watched as she silently descended the stairs.

He heard the door shut.

Sawyer's attention now turned to the piece of paper in his hands. He unfolded it, taking care not to rip the paper.

On it, in Katherine's tight, slanting script, was six words.

_**Whatever happened to my Winchester, anyway?**_

Despite himself, Sawyer grinned. Then he remembered where Katherine's Winchester was: in two halves inside a ruined palace in Mongolia. He groaned.


End file.
